The Good Old Days
by Jesuslovesmarina
Summary: It's those days fraught with danger-from sugarless birthday cakes, undercooked eggs, improperly assembled pop-up tents, and golden retrievers with fleas. It's also one of those days when Clint gets down on one knee. With Kate, Laura, Lucky, and adorable teenager! Natasha! Matt Fraction/MCU RECONCILED, T to be safe because Kate is sassy
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my three-chapter story! The topic is obscure, but I just gotta say, I totally loved working on this. It's mostly for me, but I hope at least someone will appreciate it like I do (: Thanks for reading; please review if you like it!**

The Good Old Days

Chapter 1

"Lucky!" Natalia squealed, fluffy orange bangs falling in her eyes as she scooped the golden retriever up in her strong arms.

"Ruff!" Lucky's 'happy dog' face made its quick appearance, as his tongue rolled out lazily and slopped a layer of spit bubbles all over her face. He blinked his one eye rapidly, as though he were too pleased to see her to possibly keep it open.

Giggling, Natalia tackled him to the ground, flopping over next to his warm, fuzzy body as he panted and squirmed all over on his back, waiting for her to scratch his belly.

"Careful there," Clint warned her, keeping his expression neutral as he stored away his bow and arrows after their last mission. He was _trying_ to pretend he didn't notice how laughter and a puppy could change the terrifying, unfalteringly lethal Black Widow into a playful, free-spirited teenaged girl. "You might start making him feel like a psychotherapy dog; give him a big head."

She sat up and gave him an annoyed look, delightfully juvenile in nature. "I don't need a psychotherapy dog," she groaned.

" _Everybody_ needs a psychotherapy dog," Clint corrected with an appreciative smirk at the formerly abused stray. "How else are you gonna explain why Lucky loves—literally— _everybody_? He knows everybody needs therapy. He just tries to therapize everyone."

"He doesn't like tracksuits," Natalia pointed out, absently realizing she was sitting with the drooling head sitting in her lap, stroking his soft ears. His long yellow fur was coming off all over her mission suit.

"I'd just as soon bet," Clint didn't bother glancing behind him, going to the kitchen for a beer, "that if they took him back, and up and started treating him better, he'd forget about all that abuse and love them tracksuits like anybody else, within weeks. He's good like that," he gave an affectionate, wistful quirk of his lips toward the dog.

"That sounds a lot like you," Natalia's eyebrows went up.

Clint did a double-take. "Whaaaat?" he drew out the question purposefully, to make fun of her.

"No, really," she laughed at him, her accent thick as she spoke. "You never hold a grudge. Not even against me. You haven't even mentioned yet that I broke your knee into shards the other month ago," her voice grew regretful and serious.

Clint looked for a beer, and finding none, settled for a Coke instead. "Whoa, hang on, where's that coming from? Don't tell me you feel guilty, Romanova-Moldova."

 _Stupid nickname_ , Natalia's peeved glare told him without saying as much. "Well, it IS kind of important to have an intact knee joint for walking," she pointed out. "And it cannot have been convenient to get sent to the hospital for eight months' therapy."

"I DID get a girlfriend out of it, best I've had so far. I'm pretty sure could've been a lot worse," Clint shrugged, picking back up his soda and taking a good, large gulp.

Natalia rolled her eyes at him, gesturing to his knee. "I can still see you limp," she explained irritably. "I don't know if YOU even notice it, but I see it, and I think, 'I don't know, maybe I could've NOT splintered the knee of the man who is going to save my life and become my only family?' But that's just me," she ended with a sarcastic edge in her Russian-accented voice.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Clint advised her affectionately. "I mean, it could have been a lot worse, but it wasn't. Let's count ourselves lucky and move on, eh?"

"Is that why you named your dog Lucky?" Natalia smirked. "Because the worst always, _almost_ happens to you, but you always get lucky at the last second?"

Clint rubbed his nose and shrugged. "Guess you could say that." He gripped his can a little tighter, and before he knew it, it was spilling over onto his hand. "Aw—"

Natalia burst out laughing at him as he attempted to shake the stick off of him. Lucky barked and began licking up the drops as they fell to keep them off the floor.

"Get outta here," Clint shooed him off. "Coke," he groaned. "Nat, get the door, will you?"

She looked up, seeing Clint's girlfriend, Laura, pass through the halls with her arms full of groceries.

Natalia opened the door and smiled shyly at her as the other woman gave her a warm one in return. "Hi, Nat," she gratefully unloaded some of the groceries into the girl's hands. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks," Natalia's eyes glowed. She'd never gotten to celebrate her birthday before, not since she was too young to even remember. The Red Room had drilled into her that whatever loving traditions her family had practiced with her before her kidnapping were useless, mindless wastes of time.

Come so recently to live with the Hawkeyes, Clint and Katie, with people like Laura and Phil Coulson around all the time, she could barely contain her excitement that she was finally living the way 'normal' people did.

Laura set the groceries down and gave a grateful Clint a kiss as he finished washing off his hands, and teasingly offered to dry them on her instead of a towel. She grabbed the cooking mitts and threw them at him, and he laughed while drying himself on the quilted material before beginning to hunt through the groceries.

"Marmalade?" he wrinkled up his nose. "Who eats marmalade anymore?"

"Katie likes it!" Laura defended.

"Who cares what Katie likes? Pickled beets, pickled mushrooms, pickled sauerkraut—do Russians eat anything that isn't pickled, Nat?"

Natalia grabbed the mushrooms and a jar of caviar and sighed happily. " _O, moy_! So much eggs, too—" her grammar slipped in her excitement, "are—can we make crepes?" she turned eagerly to Laura.

"We'll have enough crepes for an army if we use all these," Clint managed to stack all three cartons and still hold them steady on top with his thumbs, nudging the refrigerator door open.

"That's so Kate can have her marmalade on them and Nat can have her mushroom sauce," Laura assured them both.

"What are WE gonna have?" Clint complained.

Laura's silence made him turn around, confused, just as he saw her slip something behind her back.

"What are you hiding?" his lips quirked in amusement.

"Nothing," Laura's huge grin gave it away.

"Let me see!"

"No!" she scrambled out of the way, just as Clint caught her around the waist and accidentally hit a ticklish spot. "No, it's mine! Clint, stop!" she doubled over in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Clint was laughing, too, trying to hold her up as she nearly fell on top of him in the narrow confines of his apartment-sized kitchen.

"Aha!" he held up his prize. "Nutella?! Why did you hide this from me? That's practically a crime! I'm feeling wounded over here!" he gave up, falling on his butt beside her and laughing so hard he nearly couldn't get his breath.

"What the heck is going on in here?" Kate's voice rang out, as she stumbled through the door with her arms full of luggage and camping gear.

Natalia merely looked up at her and grinned.

Kate pointed in her direction. "I know that grin. What are they doing, having sex on the kitchen floor?" As she dumped her bags, Laura and Clint, having heard her, instantly scrambled to their feet, suddenly red-faced and mortified.

Kate looked as though she was making a heroic effort to keep from laughing. "Come on, kids, we're not five any more."

Clint pointed at Natalia, who gave him a scathing look in return.

"Natalia is a grown-ass sixteen fricking years old today," Kate folded her arms across her chest. "Aren't you?" she raised an eyebrow in the girl's direction. "Are we too grown-up company for you?"

Natalia blushed and giggled, tucking her red hair back behind her ears. "At least we know why they are so in love with each other. They both are so _passionate_ about the Nutella."

Kate's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Nutella? Who has Nutella?" her sharp eyes zeroed in on Clint "Hawkguy? Where is it?"

"You are NOT getting it!" Clint exclaimed seriously. "You get marmalade!"

"Katie, we changed our minds, go home!" Laura chuckled. She was hiding it again, this time with Clint helping her from behind the counter where Katie couldn't see. Their hands fumbled together, around the jar, through the cupboards, until the jar was safely hidden out of sight. "We don't want you on our trip anymore!"

"It's _Natalia's_ birthday," Kate pointed out smugly. "Plus, I already searched the width and breadth of Hell's Kitchen, Bed-Stuy, AND Manhattan to find a suitable babysitter. I'm eating as much sugar as I can possibly hold before returning to the horrifying realm of parentage."

"You can't just raise a kid and not ever let them have sugar," Clint told her disdainfully. "Bad for mental health. No ice cream, no fairground food, no chocolate syrup?" his eyes grew painfully sad, just from the thought.

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid, Barton," Kate growled.

"Can I try this stuff?" Natalia's voice broke the tension, as she smirked at all three of the older adults. "The Nutella?"

They all gawked at her.

"You've never had it before?" Kate's eyes were wide.

"All her caregivers were like you," Clint shot back.

Kate stuck her tongue out at him.

Laura grabbed a spoon, with barely any hesitation, and pulled out the hidden jar. All attention diverted to that as she screwed the jar open, peeled off the top, and plunged the plastic spoon in deep enough to get a huge dollop.

"Careful," Clint grabbed Natalia's shoulders, eyes glinting at Kate. "Hawkgirl—"

"—woman," Kate interrupted.

"— _woman_ thinks you'll make our child fat. Don't give her too much, now!"

Natalia merely rolled her eyes and opened wide as Laura, grinning widely, shoved the whole spoonful into her mouth.

She closed her lips around it, feeling around the giant glob of chocolate spread with her tongue as her brow wrinkled up in concentration. After what seemed like forever, she pulled the spoon out and laid it in the sink, swallowing. "It's too sweet," she grimaced, to everyone else's shock.

"Lies," Laura breathed after a moment.

"More for me," Clint shrugged, swiping the jar for himself.

"And I'm not your child," Natalia scolded them, licking her lips clean.

"Come on," Kate straightened authoritatively, "we've got birthday business to attend to. Nat, grab our tent, will ya?"

"Can I bring a pillow, at least?" Laura grimaced.

"But I'll be there," Clint acted wounded.

Laura put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that transcended all words.

Clint was genuinely confused. "I don't know what '…' means," he 'harrumph!'ed.

"Awkward," Katie scooped up the bags of groceries and nudged the door open with her foot. "Come, Nat, the losers can join us when they've settled their differences. C'mon, Lucky!"

"I think it goes without saying that I am ALSO not your dog," Natalia sighed loudly, setting the tent on her shoulders with no less than supersoldier-level ease.

Kate smirked over her shoulder as she descended the stairs.

As often as Natalia denied ever having been biologically 'enhanced' during her time in the Red Room, she was pretty convinced the procedure had still been done, whether or not her young so-called mentee was able to remember it. After some of the stories she'd heard so far, she wouldn't put it past those freaking senior Black Widows to have kept the enhancement a secret just to make sure their recruits trained that much harder for their missions.

The two heroes-for-hire leaving the room with the dog left Clint trapped, alone, with Laura.

Laura had thankfully stopped giving him that look, but Clint was still terrified.

He knew 'that look'. 'That look' was the look too many women had given him before they left him—without ever telling him why.

"I'm—sorry?" he guessed, wincing at the apology he had no idea why he was making.

Laura sighed, her long hair dropping across her face as she leaned against the counter. "I know. I get it," she eyed him sympathetically. "We haven't talked as much as we need to, and I've been letting it eat at me instead of just telling you."

Clint gulped, overcome with sudden, deeply felt love for her. She cared about him, enough to help him fix whatever it was he'd done wrong this time, instead of slamming the door in his face. Bobbi had never done that.

"Clint, I can't keep waiting. Not unless—I know what I'm waiting for. You told me that you want us to get married—but when? What has to happen before you know that's okay for you?"

He blew out a huge breath. Of course, she was mad about the one biggest question he'd ever faced in his life. Then again, women were always scarier to him when he DIDN'T know why they were mad.

"I—" he stuttered, then stopped. "Aw, Laura, it's complicated."

"Then explain it," she griped.

"The better we—we get," he started again, wincing at just how HARD it was to put this sort of thing in words, "—I know it's gonna screw up at some point. It's gonna screw up and—I won't know how to fix it because—I love you too much to do anything right." He gulped, watching her face as she tried to process what he was saying. Interpret, rather. He wasn't making any sense. He knew it. He hardly made any sense to himself. Kate would be asking him to repeat himself right about now, so he decided to do it. "I mean that I love you and I don't want anything bad to happen to us, so I tried not to love you so it wouldn't hurt as bad when it did," he blurted out.

Laura's eyes were on the ground, listening, thinking hard. A sinking feeling filled the pit of his stomach.

"I made even less sense with that last one, didn't I?" he cringed.

Slowly, Laura shook her head. "Keep going," she said quietly.

Clint took a deep breath, and before he knew it, he was rambling incessantly. "Love is a thing that scares me so bad, because I've screwed it up before and I don't wanna do it again. I'll be honest-I tried not to love you. But I can't help it. You're everything to me. I'd do anything to make you my wife-I'd be your slave if I had to, and love every second of it. And I'm really sorry, 'cause I'm not real good with words, and none of this makes any sense, but I love you. Laura, I love you more than everything in the world. So much it hurts and I don't even know how to say it."

He paused for air, not even noticing how wide Laura's eyes had gotten at his confession. He felt like a fool.

"I'm just waiting for something—any kind of thing that'll tell me that I'm good enough for you. And that I don't have to screw it up again this time. I don't want to marry you and one of us leave each other. That's the point of getting married—is 'cause you're saying you'll never do that, and I don't know that I'll never do that to you. I'm afraid—crap, I'm more scared than I've ever been in my life—that I'll leave you or not be enough for you, and both of those things, I think, would kill me because you're—" his throat closed unexpectedly, frustrating him.

Why couldn't his stupid emotions wait until he got out the most important part of the sentence? Just a few more words and he would be done—

He heaved a breath that sounded humiliatingly like a sob, sniffled, swallowed, tried everything to get the lump in his throat to go away, before Laura wrapped her warm arms around him and just held him tightly. He scrunched up his eyes and leaned over on her shoulder, holding her head and shoulders tightly against him for a long, long time.

Mainly because it took way, way too long for him to get himself under control enough to pull away and face her again.

When he at last did, eyes searching her face pleadingly to find some sort of hope in her answer, she gave him a watery smile. "You blow me away," she whispered in his ear.

Before he knew it, he was kissing her, feeling so overwhelmed he didn't know how to stop.

She was the one who pulled away.

He nuzzled close to her ear. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I love you," she whispered back.

They just stood there, forgetting about Nat and Katie completely for as long as they possibly could.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Shoutout to Bree Colbern for reviewing! Thank you so much mah dear; I really hope you enjoy this chapter! And the same to all my other readers 3**

Chapter 2

In the brief time that Clint and Laura were busy gazing into each other's eyes, the girls managed to get into a bit of trouble, as usual. Of course there were tracksuits that just happened to be wandering about, and they just happened to have taken a little boy, with a set of very rich parents, hostage, and Kate's purple Volkswagen Bug turned out to be an easy-to-spot target when they tried to covertly sneak up on the group.

This resulted in a very large fist-and-arrow fight, two tracksuits getting away with the boy in KATE'S car, Kate's remote security system malfunctioning at just the right time so that it rolled down the windows and opened the sunroof but didn't actually stop the car.

Kate took a dive through the sunroof using a grappling arrow and a makeshift kite that Nat swore would do the trick, made out of their camping tarp, and flew with not a small number of subsequent bruises through the sunroof, down into the vehicle, onto the tracksuits, and into traffic where they lost Nat and barely avoided a nasty collision that nearly sent the little boy out through the now-wide-opened windows. Tracksuits apparently didn't think their hostage valuable enough to reconcile the atrocity of making him wear a seatbelt, and the poor kid was too scared to remember.

This all resulted in several dozen tracksuits chasing them into the belly of New York as Kate devised a plan to return the kid without getting him shot. They finally picked up Nat and the girl pulled out all the stops in the wildest car-chase driving sequence that ever did make her mentor proud, the boy was smuggled into his own house, Kate dove out a window and Nat scooped her up and barreled away, round enough turns to completely lose sight of the tracksuits, and back around to Clint's apartment in less than half an hour.

Kate let out a whoop as she descended back through the window, plopping down on the seat with a sigh of satisfaction. Natalia gunned the gas and grinned as they pummeled down the streets.

"Sweetheart, I think we must be the most deadly women on the planet," Kate gave her a friendly sock in the shoulder, grabbing her water bottle and taking a swig.

Natalia grinned shyly at the praise, continuing to keep steady hands on the wheel.

"I think we need a better code name than 'Hawks'," Katie was continuing. "You and me make a great team. You pull 'em in, I arrest 'em. I don't know about how you feel, but for me, this has been the best time of my life," she leaned back in the seat. Lucky woofed his second opinion from the back seat.

(He had been along for the entire ride, too. He just was there to offer moral support, and didn't mind diving through windows to offer it. Especially when it involved sad little boys with salty, yummy tears on their faces he wanted to lick and lick until they were all gone)

Natasha chewed her lip thoughtfully, nodding her agreement. "I love this," she admitted freely.

"Sweeeet," Katie grinned. "You and me, Natalia and Kate. Okay, it has a bad ring to it," she groaned, "but we're sisters from other mothers, you know?"

All of a sudden, Nat froze. Hands still on the wheel, she turned and glared confusedly at Kate. "Don't—" she started, still driving. The traffic wasn't too bad considering they were in New York, so Kate wasn't all that concerned. "Don't call us that."

Kate's face softened from her utter bewilderment. "What—what? Wait, Nat, honey, don't call us what?"

Natalia pulled into a small roadway and stopped, meticulously setting the parking brake before she spoke. "We called each other that back then," she said in a small voice, staring down between the loops in the steering wheel toward her feet. "They used that word—told us we were all 'sisters'," her voice was bitter. "Then they made us kill each other."

Wordlessly, Kate leaned back, stunned. After a long moment, she swallowed and shook her head. "All right," she said slowly. "'BFF''s works all right for me," she shrugged.

She expected Natalia to shake it off, pretend nothing had bothered her, and get right back on the road but it didn't happen. Instead the girl's brow furrowed for a while, her face showing her to be deep in thought. After a while, she spoke again. "What is a sister, really?" Natalia asked Kate, genuinely puzzled.

Kate put her feet up on the dash. "Being a sister," she began slowly, "can mean you're blood-related, but it doesn't have to. It means that you're family. That no matter what happens, you never give up on each other. Even if one of you does give up and decides to do something awful, or ruins her life or makes a rotten decision, the other will always go back and try everything they can to help them. Those Red Room ****es—" anger seeped into her voice. "They wanted to break you so you'd do anything for them, and never care about anyone else. That's why they made you and the girls call each other 'sisters', because they're sick and twisted, and they wanted to ruin your idea of what being a sister was, so you'd never try to have a real one."

"So—" Natalia had her hands on the wheel still, gears in her head turning with every moment. "You're angry at them for doing that to me, so that makes you my sister?"

Kate smiled lopsidedly, proud of her for figuring that out so quickly, and proud to be called the sister of the _coolest_ Russian kick-ass chick on the East Coast. "Yep. That's pretty much exactly what it means."

Natalia's openness faded as quickly as it had appeared as she gunned the gas, having flipped off the brake when Kate wasn't looking, and rocketed back out onto the dusty road. "Or BFF," she finalized, in a voice that wasn't to be argued with.

"Uh," Kate was confused, but decided to roll with whatever she could get. "Ok. Yeah, sure. We can totally just be BFF's."

"I like that," Natalia said with finality. She pulled up in front of Clint's apartment, only to see that the doorway was still empty of their would-be camping companions.

"We could always go pick up a new tarp," Kate pointed out dryly, realizing suddenly that Clint had probably packed it for himself to sleep in, so the girls could share a tent. She hoped he wouldn't be too mad that she had made a totally awesome parachute, like a flying squirrel, while wearing half of it on her back.

"There they are," Natalia pointed at last, as the couple appeared at the doorway, talking quietly back and forth as they locked the door and headed forward to meet them. The two were holding hands, so apparently, they hadn't fought. Or they'd fought and made up.

"We're not taking your car," Clint griped as they opened the backseat, staring at her posh grey leather interior, custom-designed by Kate's ever generous father's contributions to the Volkswagen Company.

Kate stared pointedly at Clint's beat up old—bicycle. Yep, bicycle. With a tiny motor on it, but that was basically all it was worthy of being referred to as.

"Told you you shouldn't have let me wreck your hot-rod-red," she shrugged unconcernedly.

"Wasn't my fault. Was Penny's. She made me wreck it. Move, dog," Clint muttered, shoving Lucky aside.

"Yeah, while she was tied up in her underwear in the back seat with duct tape over her mouth," Kate responded sarcastically.

Laura and Natalia merely grinned at each other in the rear-view mirror. They were used to these two's bickering by now. It was all meant in fun, anyway.

Well, most of it.

Two hours of Kate's famous radio karaoke later, they finally arrived at the national park and set about pulling out the tents. Lucky, characteristically, set about pulling them back down after they were partially set up, and in the end Clint had to literally hold him down while everyone else set it up.

"See, now?" Clint gestured to it, staring at the dog's eyes as if he could understand everything he was saying. "That's what it looks like without all the teeth marks in it. Now go inside, see what it looks like. It's gonna be your house for tonight, so you'd better be nice to it."

Natalia crawled inside the tent, grinning as she gazed up at the low, cozy ceiling and around at all the closely-surrounding walls. "Come, Lucky! Come in! Come see how nice this tent is!"

Lucky slurped up a bunch of slobber he'd panted all over the place in the mild spring heat and bounded happily through the doors into the birthday girl's waiting arms.

"Isn't it great?" Natalia whispered in his ear, so the others couldn't hear her. "Now we'll be all so close together, we won't be alone at all."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Kay, not a three-parter, but more of a five-ish parter! Thanks to everyone who read, favorited, etc.**

 **Bree Colbern: YaY! I'm so glad you liked :D There's a lot more Natasha coming in this one! Thanks so much for your review!**

 **JanelleGimbus.8: Aww, thank you so much! Isn't Kate the best ever? I hope you like this chapter as well!**

…

 **Chapter 3**

Clint never thought it would be so hard to sleep, out under the stars, with the open country all around and the city so far away.

This was where he belonged, after all. He'd slept outside almost every night of his childhood.

All his girls were so close, too, safe where all he had to do was crack one eye open and see them all sleeping soundly.

It should've been a good day. Natalia's sweet sixteen was in the morning, and they had so much to be proud of. She was so happy now. So relaxed and settled in the American world, and in the first family she'd ever had.

For a girl jaded so harshly as a young assassin; for someone who, less than a year ago, had firmly believed killing whoever her supervisors told her to was the highest form of good in the world; and who had done just that every single day to be sleeping innocently, with her face buried in the golden fluff of a giant mangy dog in a tent covered by a canopy of New York summer stars, was just more than Clint could fathom.

He was too nervous to sleep.

Laura wanted an answer. Heck, HE wanted an answer. "Oh, God," he muttered silently, so as not to wake the rest of them, "how am I supposed to know if I'm good enough?"

He knew, of course, that it wasn't really about him. God was good. God had brought him and Laura together. That should've been enough, but it just wasn't. Clint needed to KNOW this was what he was supposed to be doing, that he'd be able to take care of Laura, to never hurt her, to never get bored with her and move on, to never let her down when she needed him most. To never give up on her, even if she clammed up and hid her problems from him like Bobbi had.

Why couldn't relationships be simple?

A faint, sleepy moan roused him from the slight doze he'd settled into, and he rolled over on his stomach to see Nat turning in her sleep.

A frown worked its way onto his lips.

Nat didn't stir in her sleep. That wasn't normal at all.

His eyes shot up to her wrist, even in the dark noticing that she'd tied it to the tent rod without any of them realizing. She'd tied herself up again. Why was she reverting back to that all of a sudden?

Lucky stirred as well, lifting his head up and sticking his long tongue out in a wide yawn before licking his jaws and panting, staring across the tent at Clint.

Without warning, Natalia screamed bloody murder, yanking her arm, still tied to the tent pole, so hard the entire pole snapped and half the tent collapsed on the campers, rousing everyone including Clint. He bolted across the small room, batting one of the poles out of the way, and grabbed Natalia, holding her down as she thrashed, still caught halfway in sleep and something that obviously wasn't there but was terrifying.

"Nat!"

"Clint?"

"What the—"

Nat screamed again, the last one ending in a partial sob and her eyes flew open, fists flying. Clint caught one of them and took another across the jaw before Lucky bounded to his feet and put his paws on Natasha's chest, licking her face violently to wake her up the rest of the way. "Nat, wake up! It's just a dream, kiddo. Just a dream—it's all right."

Natalia jumped nearly a foot in the air and her eyes flew open before she burst into tears. Sobbing, she clung to Clint's chest, badly scared. Laura gasped and sat upright, coming to her side as Clint subconsciously wrapped his arms around her and Kate started rubbing her eyes, confusedly.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," he murmured soothingly, "What's wrong? What'd you see? It's okay now. Just a dream."

Natalia quieted a little, but her breathing still hitched violently. "I thought I had killed you," she finally confessed, clinging to him all the tighter.

Clint's face went slack, and he held her tighter in his own grip as well. Across the room, he exchanged a glance with Laura and Kate. The other women gathered around Nat as well, rubbing her back and adding soothing words to what Clint was saying.

Laura pressed a kiss to Nat's forehead, and reached up to squeeze Clint's shoulder in reassurance.

Nat's fingernails dug into his sides. She refused to let go of him.

… … … … …

"Aww! Dog!" Clint grunted as Lucky woke him unceremoniously by stepping on his middle, en route to the great outdoors. The smell of bacon and eggs was already starting to waft dangerously through the walls of the partially-destroyed tent.

Clint yawned tiredly and slowly inched himself up, only to roll over and accidentally fall asleep again.

"Wake up!" Kate's voice hollered five minutes later. "Clint! I'm drinking every last drop of this coffee if you don't get your butt out here!"

"I paid for that!" Clint hollered back, too irritated to add anything humorous on the end of that sentence. He groaned, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, before crawling out of the tent on all fours.

"I think they're burning," Nat spoke up from the direction of their little campfire. Her red hair was falling slightly in her face, and she scooped it back with a rubber band as she crouched next to the logs and watched a small pan of eggs with an almost alarming intensity.

"Do they smell like they're burning?" Laura asked concernedly, coming up with a thick, fireproof glove halfway up her arm.

"I think the stuff on the bottom started burning and the stuff on top isn't done," Natalia analyzed the situation for her, pointing to what she was talking about. "I think we need to flip them."

"Do you need a fork?" Kate called from where she had dumped out a backpack searching for the rest of the eating utensils.

Clint started laughing. "You tried frying eggs in a measuring cup?"

"It's made of metal!" Nat protested.

"I wanted to let her try it—it's her birthday," Laura explained, reaching for the handle with her glove, careful not to lose her balance over the fire. "See, I really think we should just mix them up," she advised.

"I don't like scrambled eggs," Nat complained. "They taste like rubber and give me stomachaches. Maybe we should just start over."

Clint shook his head and blinked, not interested in getting any deeper in this conversation until he'd had his coffee. Kate handed him the pitcher and, since he was in front of Laura, he felt he had enough decency in him to pour a mug instead of drinking straight out of it.

He and his protégé exchanged a glance of approval as they took their first sips. Nothing had ever tasted this dreamy. They both yawned at the same time and Laura unabashedly pointed and laughed.

"I thought you wanted crepes?" Kate yawned again and nodded to the young assassin, who was still micro-examining her eggs by the fire and poking at them with a fork.

"I guess we should make crepes," Nat agreed reluctantly. "It just looks a lot harder now that we're out here than it did in your kitchen."

Kate yawned again, finishing with a smile. "My kitchen is magical that way," she agreed. "Or maybe it's just me." She grabbed her mixing bowl and whisk, along with the flour and sugar and the remainder of the eggs from their supplies. "You can kiss the cook later. Go on, Nat, I'll have these ready in a minute."

Nat crawled over by where Clint was sitting cross-legged on the ground, drinking his coffee, and leaned her tousled head on his shoulder. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked softly, nudging her with his chin before taking another sip.

She nodded, her head bumping against his.

Clint sighed, staring off into the fire. The smoke wafted across the ground to where they were sitting, stinging their eyes for a moment before the wind's direction changed. The smoky smell was comforting and welcome. "Guess I won't ask, then," he told her, when she didn't say anything. "Katie's right, though. You are our kid. That means—well, it doesn't mean you're not a crazy assassin who could knock the SHIELD records through the roof. I'm as mad as anyone that you're not allowed to join them until you're eighteen. But we've still gotta look after you. Alright?"

Natalia nodded again, and Clint pressed a kiss to her forehead.

After a few minutes, she scrambled off to feed Lucky, and Laura took her place on Clint's shoulder, giving him a warm smile.

"You're something special to her, you know that, Tiger?"

Here she was, calling him pet names and loving on him even though he hadn't done anything for her this morning but drink coffee like a zombie. "I don't deserve you," he grinned, leaning his head into her neck. She smiled as he kissed her ear.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"No, Clint," she shook her head, pulling away, "I mean I really, really do."

Guilt welled up in him. She was bringing it up again, the whole need for a proposal thing. Clint wasn't stupid enough to miss it this time, not when she was frowning at him like that. "Aw, Honey. I love you too, and I promise I'll propose or something by the time you graduate. Alright?"

Laura graduated that May, and it was April. Clint resisted the urge to start chewing on his own knuckles. He was running out of time.

She was going to be a special education teacher.

She was unbelievably good at teaching him and Nat, so he figured she wouldn't have a problem with any other kids. She was made to help people who just needed that little extra-personal touch.

Clint loved her so much he could hardly stand it. But how could he marry her if he was still so afraid, and didn't know how to stop it?

She nodded when he made that promise, a little cuddlier after that. Clint held her in front of his chest with his arms around her shoulders and they watched Nat teach Lucky to play dead.

Watching her demonstrate was the best part. She'd get over on the grass and lie down, eyes closed, arms and legs splayed wildly just as though she'd been struck down unexpectedly, freeze in the position just long enough to make the dog wonder and sniff at her hair, and then spring to life with a battle cry and burst into laughing and petting the dog so hard her cheeks were apple-rosy.

Clint grinned. This was perfect. Why couldn't it stay this way forever?

"Also, you wanna talk about how she was strong enough to literally rip the tent in half in her sleep?" Laura added, wrinkling her eyebrows and taking a sip of her own coffee.

"Crepes are ready," Katie announced, interrupting them, smug pride dripping from her voice as she handed around the plate of hot buttery flat cakes.

Clint was glad not to have to answer THAT question. He—well. He had his suspicions, but that didn't make them pleasant ones.

They all grabbed as many as they could possibly manage to eat, smothering them in jam and Nutella and whatever else they could find to add more calories. Lucky stuck his nose in the marmalade and ruined it for Kate, so they had another fight over who got the most Nutella and how much was each person's fair share.

Natalia happily ate almost all of hers with mushroom sauce and caviar, making her Lucky's primary target for begging. She shared liberally with the dog—so liberally Clint had to tie him up so he wouldn't consume her entire meal for her, since she nearly allowed for it.

Nat was a sucker for dogs. He'd known it since the day he met her and she'd nearly jumped out of her own skin when Lucky chased her down. It hadn't taken long for her to warm up.

"Now for cake," Kate grinned, hauling the sealed container carefully out of its travel box.

The other three groaned, and Lucky excitedly wagged his tail.

"Just after breakfast, really?" Clint arched an eyebrow.

"Well, we won't eat all of it in one sitting!" Kate flapped her dishrag dramatically over one shoulder.

The grungy towel looked hilarious over her fifty-six-dollar designer tank top with the fashionable ruffles, striped shorts, and patent one-of-a-kind specialty sunglasses.

"So we have to eat it all today?" Laura asked skeptically, sticking her tongue out as she rubbed her full stomach.

"I don't want it in my fridge," Kate snorted. "Hobby might find it."

"And that would be soooo horrible," Clint nudged a stick back into the fire lazily with his foot. She gave him a glare in return. "What?" he shrugged. "Just saying. You've got to be careful. A few bites of sugar might stunt his growth, you know, or put him in a coma."

Natasha pulled out her knife (she was always pulling out knives from places normal people wouldn't know knives could come from) and cut a piece for each of them. Laura ran and got her camera and insisted on taking so many pictures the girl blushed profusely.

Clint burst out in warbled, totally off-key song and they all joined in unabashedly, hounding him afterward for how awful he sounded.

"Pick on the deaf guy's singing, why don't you?" Clint huffed good-naturedly, starting to wake up a little more now that the sun was nearly overhead. He reached out for his piece of the cake, took a huge bite, and wrinkled his nose.

He met Kate's eyes as she took her first bite. The two exchanged a horrified glance and spit it out as quickly as possible.

"What?" Laura started, holding her own first bite ten inches from her mouth. Natasha was staring, probably thinking they'd been poisoned or something.

Clint coughed. "That is not cake."

"No SUGAR!" Kate nearly bawled, pounding a fist on the ground and pouting. "I knew I was forgetting something!"

"How do you forget the most important part?" Clint exclaimed, downing half a mug of coffee to get the taste out of his mouth.

"I kept saying I was going to borrow some from you, but you don't ever BAKE, so you didn't have any, and neither did Simone, and I was going to ask Laura but then I ran out of time and just completely forgot because I knew I had to finish it!" Kate ranted, mad at herself.

"And you don't have any in YOUR apartment, because little four-year-old Hobby isn't allowed to have sugar under penalty of death, not even on his darling big sister's sixteenth birthday," Clint reminded her.

"Shut uuuup!" Kate groaned, throwing the dirty rag at him and collapsing into the grass. She turned and shrugged apologetically at Natalia. "Sorry. We'll get more cake back in the city, I guess."

Nat merely scooped up her own slice and took a careful, testing bite, chewing slowly. "Oh, this is no problem," she assessed at last, jumping up. "We can fix it." She ran to the canvas bag Kate had stored most of their food in, rummaging around.

"If you pull out mushroom sauce I'm going to puke," Kate warned, eyes going wide in her direction.

"Oh, no. My ideas are much better than that," Nat replied smugly. She held up the jar of Nutella and winked. "We use the love potion."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Short chapter tonight, because I just feel like I have to publish SOMETHING! Ever get that feeling? Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. If you like chapters in which Clint gets to be miserable, this is a gold mine for you ;D**

 **Black' Victor Cachat: Yessss…Clint has some problems ;p which I think is a big part of what makes both his character, and the Fraction comics, so endearing. He's just so normal, even to the point where we can kinda question his heroism. But in the end he's trying to do what's right, so there's this point where he's starting to figure out how to not end up on the wrong side of the battle, so to speak. Thanks for your awesome reviews ^_^**

 **Bree Colbern: I am so happy you like Natasha! My goodness, she has just become my baby, I think ;) I can't stand the idea of her never getting a chance to be a normal teenager. And I'm SUPER glad you liked that last line; I thought it was so OOC, haha. Thanks for all your wonderful support! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :D**

 **JanelleGimbus.8: KATE IS THE BEST, AND NO ONE SHALL CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE! I'm super glad you are enjoying the story! Aww, and you are so sweet about my writing, too! Your review really made my day :D Thanks for your support!**

…

Chapter 4

Clint's hands would NOT stop shaking as he tied his shoelaces. How long had it been since he'd tied such—freaking—stiff—laces that were shorter than the length of the shoe itself?!

"You're kidding," he was talking out loud to himself. "What the heck are you doing, Clint?! You are actually asking a girl out to a REAL dinner, and you are going to have the nerve to ask her to marry you? Are you insane?"

 _Flowers—check._

His suit was only slightly crumpled— _win._

He had that ring around here—somewhere. He was still experiencing doubts about it. He really wished he'd stuck with Kate's suggestion of letting Laura pick out her own ring, since he had no idea what kind of jewelry she wouldn't find annoying and in the way when wearing it on a— _gulp_ —daily basis.

Would she?

"She said she would, you idiot," he grumbled to himself again, a bit louder this time.

To his left, Lucky barked.

Clint shook a finger in his face. "And if you say anything more about it, I'll send you back to the mafia. I'm stressed out enough as it is."

Lucky only barked again, mouth hanging open wide and drool oozing over the sides, as though he were laughing at his master.

Once upon a time, Clint had been good at this.

Well, 'good' in terms of his confidence, not necessarily in the sense that he'd done a better job. He wasn't a flowery social butterfly, not exactly. He liked people, but not in the drink-expensive-wine-together-at-a-dinner-party kind of way.

"This isn't that," he had to remind himself again, almost harshly. "Shut up and listen to yourself for a second, Barton. This is just you and Laura. Nothin' you can't pull off."

Was he really insane? Could he do this with Laura when he'd failed to do it with Bobbi?

Bobbi, who was to this day an angel adored by every SHIELD agent who came into contact with her, renowned for her skill in combat and espionage, and still one of the nicest and most perfect people Clint could ever hope to meet?

He shivered slightly, realizing that his fingers had fallen slack. He could pull this one night off—surely! The difficult question was, would he be fooling Laura or would he truly become the man who was worthy of her? He had no idea.

Clint finally managed to get his shoe tied reasonably tight, although he didn't trust it to stay that way unless he double-knotted it. He wasn't sure if it was against some sort of social protocol to double-knot dress shoe laces, but it was better than falling on his face.

Upon the completion of that part of his outfit, his hearing aids detected the foulest noise known to man—the phone ringing.

"Ugh," Clint groaned, hopping over on his one foot as he tried to get his other shoe on. He grabbed the dial adjuster on his aid and fiddled with it until he no longer heard a piercing whine. "What is it," he growled into the receiver, blessedly ending the awful ringing.

"Um," said an uncomfortably familiar voice, "it's Laura."

"Oh," Clint froze. "Hi."

"Um."

"I'm so sorry," he blurted. "I thought you were—uh. Never mind."

 _Great way to start an evening, Barton._

She giggled, and he sagged against the countertop in relief. "So, guess what? I just got in my car and it wouldn't start—think you could pick me up?"

"Sure, yeah," Clint started, without thinking, before he remembered that his 'car' was currently—a motor-bicycle (Kate hadn't been exaggerating). Although Laura had ridden on it with him before, he—he just _couldn't_ propose after riding her around town on a twenty-five-year-old bicycle! "Actually, uhm," he started, "uh, could I send Kate to pick you up? We could walk together when you get here?"

"That should work," Laura replied slowly.

Did she suspect something? Clint cringed. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing if girls expected you to propose or if it had to remain a surprise. Bobbi—Bobbi had figured it out, because he'd totally given it away without trying. She knew by eight A.M. the morning of, and he hadn't actually popped the question until after midnight.

'Sorry 'bout your car," he blurted again. "I'll—I'll send Kate right away. She'll be there in no time. You ready?"

"Yep, just waiting for you," her voice sounded puzzled.

"Right. Ten minutes, tops," he sure hoped Kate was available. She'd BETTER be, after she helped him plan this stupid mess.

"Okay…"

"Bye. Love you," Clint hung up before he could say anything else that would leave him screwed.

He turned and found Lucky sitting in the corner, chomping and licking his lips over something red and fluttery.

Clint's jaw fell slowly open. "You have got to be kidding."

Lucky whined in shame and accidentally hacked up the last remaining rosebud. The golden retriever stared up at him guiltily and smacked his lips.

"I hope you _really_ enjoyed those," he groaned, banging his forehead against the fridge. "This is _so_ not my day! Where's Kate's number—?" he began shuffling through paperwork and sticky notes scattered over his countertop.

"Where's _my_ number?" a familiar voice came from the hallway, as Katie-Kate herself, followed by a toddler and teenager and greeted instantly with a friendly bound from the dog, swaggered in through the door. "Tell me you at least have _my_ number memorized by now, Hawkguy."

"Kate!" Clint frowned when he saw the caravan she brought with her. "This is really a bad time!"

Kate threw up her hands. "Don't _gripe_ at me; I just came to make sure you knew how to tie Oxford shoelaces, that's all. You have coffee on your shirt," she noticed, pointing to his midsection with a frown.

"Uncle Clint!" Hobby screamed for attention, running forward with an expectant smile.

"Hi," Clint answered tersely, stiffening when the kid latched onto his leg. He met Kate's gaze with a panicked look of his own. "Everything's totally under control, no problem, but can you go get Laura and bring her here, _now,_ please?!"

Natalia was gaping at him from the doorway. "You're in a _suit_?" she exclaimed, baffled.

"Yes, I am in a suit. That's very perceptive, Nat," Clint replied, a little louder than necessary.

"I never see you in anything better than your tactical gear," she raised an eyebrow. "Looks weird. You shouldn't wear it."

"Kate?!" Clint pleaded again, desperately.

"Why would I go get Laura?" Kate asked him, puzzled. "Isn't she coming here?"

"Her car won't start!"

"Well, how about you come with us and we can drop the two of you off at the restaurant on our way back?"

Clint stared. "I don't—we can't bring the whole family, Kate! I'm going to _propose,_ " he added in a hiss.

Natalia's eyes flew open and a huge smile burst across her face. "You're going to _propose?_ " she squealed, almost jumping up and down.

The other Hawkeye folded her arms across her chest, glaring back at Clint. "Well, maybe you should have thought of that when you wrecked your hotrod for the last gir—"

" _You_ wrecked my hotrod, and Penny—" a lump of anger formed in Clint's throat, and he raised his forefinger toward his friend. "Don't mention _Penny_."

"Who's Penny?" Hobby and Natalia asked simultaneously. Lucky started barking in the background.

"Nobody!" Clint yelled at the top of his lungs. "We are _not_ talking about Penny!"

" _Quiet!"_ came a voice from the floor above.

"Right. Okay," Kate grinned. "You take my car, go get Laura and take her to the restaurant, and we'll be here to take pictures when you get back. Deal?"

"No," Clint whined. "No pictures, Kate! Do you not know how to take a hint? I don't want a crowd when we're trying to have a special night!"

"Well," Kate put her hands slowly on her hips, "we have a problem, then, because I can't _walk_ all the way back to my apartment with Natalia and Hobby—"

"I can walk across town; I'm not a child," Natalia grumbled again from where she was seated on the floor with the dog.

"—so if you're gonna take my car, we'll just have to stay here and hang out."

"Fine," Clint eventually caved, with a sigh. "But stay in your side of the complex, okay?"

"Sure, sure, whatever," she hummed, bustling around on her usual visitation rounds to check if his coffee pot had anything fresh in it, if the refrigerator was stocked along with the pantry, and to make sure Lucky's bowl looked like it had been recently used.

Whenever she did that, it made Clint felt like a debilitated old man who needed checking up on.

He may be an incompetent wreck, but he _did_ at least know how to buy groceries.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing her keys from where she'd deposited them on the counter. "Okay," he took a deep breath. "I'm leaving now."

"Good luck!" Natalia exclaimed, jumping to her feet and giving him a hug.

Clint managed an extremely stressed-out looking smile, and nudged the dog out of his path to the door with his foot.

"Stop freaking out!" Kate called after him as he left. "You'll do awesome!"

"Yeah, right," Clint muttered under his breath, taking the stairs two at a time. It was already a little too late for that.

Once underway, he tapped his thumb nervously against the steering wheel as he stopped at a red light, waiting impatiently for all the traffic to clear out. At this time of night, everyone was going out, apparently. He should've anticipated that—if he had a social life, perhaps he would have known this ahead of time.

At last he skidded the tires up against the curb in front of Laura's apartment complex, hopping out and trying to avoid eye contact with two little old ladies walking their poodle-schnauzer miniature dogs—well, if something like _that_ could be considered a _dog—_

Clearly they were wondering why he was driving a bright purple car with custom fenders through the city when he was dressed like a slob. He flinched with a little pride when he remembered that he was, actually, dressed up. Then he rang Laura's doorbell and glanced down at his shirt. The coffee stain was _still_ there.

He hummed a little for a second, waiting for her to answer.

Except—she didn't.

Clint frowned and tried again, checking his watch.

At least five minutes of standing outside and she still hadn't answered—he then checked his phone, only to find that it was dead.

He groaned, banging his head against her door.

Why did all of this have to happen _tonight_?!

…

 **One more chapter to go! For real, this time ;D Thanks for reading; if you enjoyed it, please let me know in the box! Until next time peeps ^_^**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience, and for your wonderful responses last time! This is the final chapter, ta da! It was one of the most enjoyable things I've ever written. I love romance—slowing it down is the trick for me. Hopefully this was slow enough that you guys can enjoy it as much as I did :D**

 **See y'all next time!**

 **Bree Colbern: OMG I'm so excited that you liked that chapter! I just love all the craziness that happens in the Matt Fraction world! Hopefully Clint's life is taking a turn for the better though, now that Laura's here to stay :D Thank you so, so much for your sweet review!**

 **Black' Victor Cachat: Haha, thank you! poor Clint, he really is totally freaking out. I'm super glad you enjoyed it! :D**

 **JanelleGimbus.8: Yay, thank you so much! It's such a pleasure to have you as a reader! :D Kate is the best, isn't she? Haha. She and Clint complement each other's personalities so well. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Guest: Sorry, not sorry :P I like Natasha with Clint in some scenarios, but I haven't written much along those lines. I hope you can maybe still enjoy this story? Probably not, given the romance is super amped-up with this chapter, but either way, thanks for reading up till now!**

…

Chapter 5

The door still remained unopened and Clint was trying his best not to break into a hissy-fit right then and there. He pulled out his phone a second time and tried again.

It came up just as dead as before.

He got back in Kate's beetle, turning the key just far enough that the clock display came up and said it was already 8:13. Their reservation was at 8:30—they'd basically already missed it.

Clint slammed the door shut and leaned the seat all the way back, folding his arms across his chest and just allowing his insides to crumble a little bit. All this effort he'd put into making this night a decent one—it wasn't half of what Laura deserved, obviously, but it was far more than he'd done for anyone, ever, since he was dating Bobbi.

How come other guys found it so easy to plan crap like this? How come they always seem to have that extra time, that energy to pour into things like clothes and cars and gifts and plans that Clint never seemed to have?

A little voice in the back of his head told him it just happened this way because he was out of practice.

He wasn't sure he wanted _practice_ , though. This wasn't _him_.

Of course, he always seemed to suck at dating in general, anyway.

He figured, turning over the engine and pulling up his seat a little further, that he should probably head back to the apartment to see if Laura had gone there, somehow.

He took the long way there, with a perhaps longer-than-necessary detour along the edges of the district to nurse his wounded feelings, before finally pulling up in front of his building and trudging up the stairway with an air of defeat.

Suddenly, several floors above him, he heard a rattle of feet and voices on the stairs. "Clint!" Laura was there, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, barreling down the stairs and straight toward him.

Following her were Hobby, Kate, and Natasha, all huffing and out of breath.

Laura threw her arms around him, and Clint found his mouth hanging open in disbelief—had he even forgotten to tell her what to _wear_? He was such an idiot…

"How—" he began, trying _very_ hard not to sound accusing, "did you get _here?_ "

Laura pulled away and started laughing, embarrassed. "I am so sorry," she exclaimed, "I saw Kate's car drive by as she was coming here and thought something had happened to our plan, so I got a cab and thought I would meet you here. We've been trying to call you all this time; I think you're phone's dead."

"Yeah—" Clint frowned, turning it over in his pocket, "yeah, it kind of is."

"Is something wrong?" he turned and found Laura looking at him concernedly.

He didn't answer that. He wasn't sure how to without giving way to a whole slough of ridiculous over-exaggerated emotions that were trying to explode out of him. He turned away a bit, leaning his arm against the wall of the stairwell above his head, trying to contain everything for a moment before he decided how to respond.

"I'm really sorry, Honey," Laura babbled on, her tone incredibly sincere, "I hope I didn't ruin your plans—I didn't think we really had plans, but you're dressed up, and—" realization suddenly hit her like a falling meteor, her eyes grew big and her mouth fell open, "Oh my gosh, Clint—did we have—like, _plans_ -plans?"

"Well, they're cancelled by now, so it's fine, it's really just fine," he groaned, still trying to pull himself together and hating how upset his tone still sounded.

"Oh my gosh," she repeated again, running a hand through her hair, "I thought we just had, like, burger joint and a movie-type plans; oh, Clint, you spend an awful long time planning all this, didn't you?" she sounded so sorrowful Clint felt better about turning around and facing her.

He sighed, looking up at Kate and the kids. "Why are you all still standing there?"

"Oh, don't mind us, we were just leaving," Kate declared a little too loudly. "Come on, guys, back up the stairs! We wouldn't want to miss that second episode of Dog Cops, now, would we?"

Natasha lingered by the stairs, not wanting to follow as she looked back and forth between Clint and Laura.

" _Nat!"_ Kate hollered back.

"Kate! I'm not a _child_!" the teen assassin huffed angrily, reluctantly tearing away and stomping back up the staircase.

Finally, the two of them were left alone.

"I'm really sorry—" Laura started again.

"No, you've said that like, five times," Clint protested, shaking his head, "and I'm the one who's supposed to say I'm sorry, 'cause I screwed the whole thing up, and—this has just been a horrible night, and I'm sorry that I couldn't do better for you—I literally just drove around for an extra twenty minutes because I was so mad nothing's been working out the way I tried to make them, and I'm sorry because I could probably find a way to fix this for you even now, but I've been stewing in my own problems like a freaking _kid_ 'cause it feels like I can't do anything right all of a sudden." He huffed out a ridiculously shaky breath, gazing across at her with his own miserable, drooping eyes filled with all kinds of turmoil of emotion.

"Oh, baby," Laura leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a lingering, comforting squeeze.

Clint found himself wanting to roll his eyes—he wasn't a two year old who needed to be comforted because he'd had a bad day—but her hugs felt _so good_ he just returned it anyway, soaking up touch and affection and her brown-sugar cinnamon scent like he'd been starved of that kind of familiarity most of his life, because honestly, he _had._

"You wanna go up in Katie's apartment?" she suggested after a while, pulling away just enough to speak. "You can cook for me."

"What, she taken over mine with all her kids?" Clint found he had an easy laugh, even after all the ridiculousness of the past few hours. It felt good in his chest. Funny how laughing and hugging were far more than going through the physical motions.

Laura smirked. "I think so. Last I checked, Dog Cops had only just started a four-hour back to back special airing."

"You know, I actually liked that show before Hobby came along and started watching every episode over and over and over again," Clint rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs more slowly with Laura's hand in his.

"Well, she's got to keep him out of trouble somehow," Laura chuckled, gently stroking his arm and shoulder as they climbed the rest of the way to his and Katie's apartments together.

…

Clint's jacket came off first, and then his tie.

Laura taught him how to make chicken parmesan, so his sleeves ended up being rolled up as well. By the time everything was laid out on the table, they were both laughing and covered in tomato juice anyway, so it no longer mattered, along with the coffee stain.

They finished up in no hurry, lingering and talking in low voices, about everything and nothing. Clint leaned across the table, just looking at her, smiling without even realizing it. "You wanna go cuddle on the sofa?" he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

It was the first time he'd directly asked her something like that—not that they hadn't done it before, but it seemed to flow so naturally off his tongue, as if he no longer had to worry about everything he said to her, or try to make things happen without saying them out loud.

They wound up with her stretched up against his chest, leaning her head just below his shoulder with her feet tucked up underneath of her, his head resting just above hers, one of his arms around her shoulders and the other just above her waist.

"Are you happy?" one of them asked, and the other affirmed it with a nod.

"When do you think Hobby'll go to bed?"

"Probably never. "

"Katie'll be mad if we don't leave at some point."

"Y'know, I can hardly bring myself to care."

She started running her fingers across the scars on his face and chin, for once visible without his overgrown whiskers covering them up. "Where'd this one come from?"

"Morocco."

"Morocco with the Tridelite?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds like toothpaste, not a drug ring."

She snickered. "Or a beetle."

"Hey," Clint shifted a little, so he could look in her eyes just a little bit better.

Everything was so quiet, it felt like the moment shouldn't be disturbed.

He bit his lip for a moment before he said it. "I got you somethin'."

"You got me something?" she smiled, looking puzzled. Her fingers ghosted across his arm, playing lazily against his skin.

"Yeah, uh—" he lost his nerve for half a moment, and grinned sheepishly, causing her to laugh with him. He knew it was time, yet he was calmer than he'd ever thought he'd be. He swallowed hard, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the box.

Laura's hand went to her mouth.

Either she was really surprised or she just loved him that much—Clint was willing to bet with the latter.

"Look, I—" he took a deep breath, fingering it slowly in his hand. "I've been meaning to do this for a long time, but—I'm a loser," he gave a short, breathy laugh, at which she placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

He'd couldn't remember the first words of what he'd wanted to say. It didn't matter, because what he needed to say, what he _had_ to say, came to him in a moment.

He slid from the couch and pressed against the side of it, all the way down on his knees and leaning in toward her. "Thing is, when I'm with you I don't feel like that anymore. I feel like, maybe, I can be—just as good as any other guy. Which may not seem like a huge deal, but—to me, that is a huge deal. I have been—treated like I was made of dirt—by almost everyone I've ever met, but you came with me anyway, and—"

He lost his voice. How could anyone say what he saw before him? Laura—the woman in front of him was so much more than words could say.

"You're—" he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Her soft hand caught him just to the side of his ear, stroking the side of his face gently. "You're so—" _Beautiful. Wonderful. You're the most beautiful woman in the world._

The ring box fell by the wayside, as his hand went to her face as well, cupping it with shaking fingers, and her other hand took him between both of hers.

"Please," he whispered, gazing breathlessly into perfect, imperfect eyes. "Please marry me."

The silence was so full it stretched out endlessly yet couldn't be rushed. "Yes," she finally breathed.

The breath escaped his lungs, then hers. He took her with his other hand, both of them with their faces cradled on either side by the other's gentle, trembling fingers. They kissed each other at the same time, gently, deeply. It seemed like it went on forever.

" _Woohoooo!"_ came loud, obnoxious cheering from the doorway, completely ruining the moment.

Kate was there, waving her camera as she jumped up and down and squealing with delight. Natasha was doing a little happy-dance with her, Lucky bounding over the two of them and through the doorframe "woof!" ing with delight.

Clint and Laura both blushed crimson red, scrambling to their feet as they unconsciously wound their arms around each other as tightly as rubber bands.

"Picture time!" Kate announced, loudly enough that at least three other renters began shouting and pounding from the room above them to pipe down and let somebody get some sleep.

Clint sniffed, realizing to his utter dismay that he was crying, leaving water everywhere; on his face, on Laura, on his shirt—she was crying too, but still, it was a problem—and Kate was still trying to take pictures.

" _Really?"_ he exclaimed, attempting to shoot her a heated glare, his voice only halfway present when he tried to use it. They had been interrupted at a _vulnerable_ moment, and Clint wasn't all too sure he was happy about that.

Kate snapped a picture anyway, but wasn't happy either, because she grimaced horribly when she looked through the viewfinder. "Ugh, stop crying already," she scolded both of them. "Kiss each other or something instead."

Clint scowled and Laura tightened her grip around his waist, the two of them clinging all the more closely to one another. "We don't kiss on command."

"Well, we've got to do something to lighten up! You just got engaged! We're supposed to celebrate!" Kate rolled her eyes, putting her camera away. "Come on, let's raise a toast. You too, Nat. Hobby's asleep, so we're good on all fronts, here."

She bounded over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Grenache and four glasses and pouring them each a drink so quickly nobody had time to protest.

"To Clint and Laura," she raised her own, grinning affectionately at each of them, "and to our family. May we spend the rest of our lives together, just as we are now."

"To Clint and Laura Barton," Natasha exclaimed happily, beaming from cheek to cheek. "Or almost. Something like that."

Both Clint and Laura sighed almost simultaneously, giving in. Clint wrapped an arm around her back.

"To my baby," he smiled into her eyes. "The most wonderful woman on earth."

"You stole that from me," Laura teased, leaning her forehead against his as they held up their glasses. "I was going to say to mine."

"To that, then," Clint touched his lips with hers one more time, before they all drank. "I answer to you."

Her breath ghosted against his. "You sure about that, Hawkeye?"

A smile tugged at Clint's lips, and he leaned in to kiss her again. "Yes, Ma'am."

THE END!


End file.
